


The Dirt In Which Our Roots May Grow

by TheBlindBandit



Series: Rocks And Water [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Botany, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode Tag, F/F, Family, Future Vision, Gem Fusion, Gen, Homeworld Hierarchy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kissing, Mother-Son Relationship, Pearl Solidarity, Pearl/Space, Polyamory, Pre-Series, Rebellion, Regeneration, Revenge, Slavery, what a lovely tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1 - Which Part Of You (Pearl/Rose) - Dealing with Homeworld fashion, regeneration, appearances, a rather smitten Rose, and the opportunities Earth affords its newest residents.<br/>2 - The Other One (Yellow Pearl/Blue Pearl) - Beginnings are hard, especially when they are likely to cost you your life.<br/>3 - A Language Of Its Own (Pearl/Rose, Garnet/Rainbow Quartz) - On the nature of human affection-related rituals, their application in several established Gem relationships, and fusion. But mostly kissing.<br/>4 - The Light And How It’s Perceived (Pearl, Steven) - Astronomy lessons, model-making, and general creativity with Pearl and Steven.<br/>5 - All Is Well (Pearl/Rose) - Pearl's habit of insisting everything is fine, and Rose's doubt.<br/>6 - Beneath My Palms (Garnet/Pearl/Amethyst) - Amethyst tends to comfort simply by existing. Pearl is fussy and overprotective. Garnet appreciates them both.<br/>7 - Positive Tropism (Pearl OC) - Aventurine has a pearl she’s been talking about getting rid of, one with some knowledge of botany.<br/>8 - What Keeps Gemkind Alive (Pearl OC/Gem OC) - Pearl waits.<br/>9 - Absolute Causality (Sapphire) - She comes to Earth and has all the answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Which Part Of You (Pearl/Rose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with Homeworld fashion, regeneration, appearances, a rather smitten Rose, and the opportunities Earth affords its newest residents.

 

There was always calm to be found on Earth, somehow, even in such simple acts as lying still and _looking_. On clear nights they loved staying outside, enjoying the other’s presence under the open sky, fingers gently tangled between them the only point of actual contact. Pearl was rather partial to the stars and could go on about them for ages, if prompted, but no matter how much she adored listening to her, Rose found she preferred the Earth’s single moon. She loved that she got to see it bright and full so often - and she knew how to squint and turn her head _just so_ to ensure the construction efforts on the Diamond base blended into the pale grey-white background, almost as if they weren’t there.

The spike of _if only, if only they weren’t_ threw off her reverie, as did the rustling of the grass as Pearl moved beside her. Space and calm seemed to be the furthest thing from Pearl’s mind that particular night. She was fidgeting endlessly, and Rose knew her well enough by now to be able to tell she was upset by something.

“I don’t like this,” Pearl piped up suddenly, and Rose felt thankful for the opening she’d been trying to find all evening.

“Hm?”

Pearl was plucking at the frilly edges of her sleeves, pulling them away from her wrists. It was something Rose had seen her do many times - mostly when she seemed to think no one was looking - and she’d chalked it up to some sort of nervous habit. The high, similarly fancy collar fell victim to the long, agitated fingers next.

“I don’t like it,” Pearl ground out again, “any of it.”

The way Pearl made sweeping gestures to include her entire self as she spoke sent a pang of sadness and worry through Rose, before her mind settled on another interpretation. “You don’t like… your appearance?”

“I’m allowed! It’s not _mine_ , anyway, and above all it’s completely impractical, gets caught in things and keeps getting in my way, and-,” Pearl burst out, a strange mixture of aggressive, defensive, and frightened - hunching down and turning meek almost immediately afterwards. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m- sorry. We’ve been over this, sorry.”

“We’ve also been over you apologising too much,” Rose offered with a small smile - regretting it immediately when she saw Pearl’s face fall again. “Oh, Pearl, it’s fine - I was just teasing, I didn’t mean it like that! Of course you’re allowed, nobody is ever going to deny you that here.”

 _Nor anywhere or ever again, not if I have any say in it_ and similar possibly overprotective sentiments she kept for herself, for now. She was well aware she wasn’t the most subtle or even tactful of Gems, but she liked to think she knew - at least with Pearl - when to hold back on the grand gestures and settle for what she hoped was gentle encouragement. “You’re also allowed… to change, if you want.”

Pearl gave a small nod, her frown still deep and her gaze focused somewhere around her knees.

“You don’t _have_ to, I didn’t mean to insinuate-,” Rose faltered again, lost in the dance they’d been caught up in for a while now, the importance of which she was very aware of and couldn’t possibly begin to overstate. “I only mean… I can see it’s been troubling you, so if you _want_ …”

She clamped down on her words then, bit her lip before her mouth ran away from her with a hundred instances of _I just want you to be happy_ flowing into overeager blurted-out _I love you_ s. It was… too early for that, surely? No need to burden Pearl with such things, when she had so much of her own to figure out. They had time, and there would be time for all of that later.

“All right,” Pearl shot up, puffing out her chest, posture almost that of a trained soldier with hands clenched into determined fists by her sides, “all right. I’m going to do it. I am.”

“I will miss you,” Rose said, standing up with her. The words had tumbled out before she could entirely think them through, despite her best efforts - it was selfish of her, perhaps, but it was true, and she hoped Pearl would appreciate all the honesty behind the sentiment with none of the unintended pressure.

“I’ll… I’ll try not to take too long.” Pearl’s fierce determination seemed to have mostly evaporated, replaced with a subdued hesitation and more nervous pulling on thin, silky fabric.

It was exactly what Rose had hoped to avoid. “Oh, no, please, don’t hurry on my account,” she attempted reassurance again, “take all the time you need.”

“Well, you see, the issue is- ahem,” Pearl stepped a bit closer, reaching out and peppering Rose’s arm with brief, light touches, before finally taking her hand. “I will miss you, too.”

Rose made no reply, but savoured the light, giddy feeling bubbling up in her at the words. She swept aside Pearl’s hair and placed a gentle kiss on her brow, overhearing a muttered _yes, that **definitely** has to go_.

Pearl stepped back, took a deep breath, as if in preparation - though, of course, it was a completely unnecessary affectation, like so many things they both did nowadays seemed to be - and released her physical form, leaving Rose to place her gem on a mound of soft grass, freshly grown. Then there was nothing left to do but wait.

The moon was almost full again by the time Pearl returned, in a showy dance of light Rose felt honoured to have been witness to. They stood facing one another amidst the bushes Rose had been trying to keep herself busy with, both trying to take in every detail of the other, neither daring to move too much.

“Do you… like it?” Pearl broke the silence at long last, her voice small, the request shy, tentative.

Rose tore her eyes away from where she was cataloguing every change, recalling every complaint Pearl had had about Earth’s weather and terrain and the fascinating way she’d seemingly chosen to respond to each in the rather streamlined look she’d constructed for herself - altogether more like a quartz warrior’s outfit than something anyone would have their pearl wear. “It doesn’t matter if I like it - what matters is if _you_ like it.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Pearl was surprisingly quick to dismiss any concerns Rose might have had, busy craning her neck to get a better view of herself, then stretching her now sleeveless arms. “But… do you think it’s… too colourful? Clashing? I don’t have a lot of experience in the area, you see, and admittedly I might have focused too narrowly on the practical elements-”

“I think it looks perfect, because it looks like you, and like you wanted it to look,” Rose restated simply.

“Rose, _please._ ” Pearl was blushing furiously, and sounded almost indignant. “I am aware we currently live in a cave, but that’s no excuse to be lax about these things. I’m merely trying to get an opinion, or even advice, on my colour matching and coordination, and overall, um, appeal…”

“Hm,” Rose hesitated, one hand lifted and hovering. “Appeal. May I?”

Pearl nodded, and Rose happily ran her fingers through her newly swept-back hair, increasingly appreciative of the way the soft pink strands fluffed and stuck out at all angles when she ruffled them. Pearl let out a tiny snort, then couldn’t hold back her chuckle anymore. “What are you doing?”

“Studying the appeal.” Rose laughed along with her. “I do like it. I think it suits you, most of all.”

“Worth the wait?” Pearl smiled up at her from under the hand that had stilled, gently cradling her head, and Rose beamed back.

“You always are.”

-

It all happened very quickly.

A brief flinch of shocked recognition - of realising exactly which friend the monster they were fighting used to be - a moment’s pause in the heat of battle, and Pearl was gone.

Garnet arrived just in time to catch her gem and wordlessly pass it along to Rose for safekeeping. She in turn cradled it close until the battle was well over, then set off for her room as soon as they warped back home. It was sadly nothing new or shocking, but only the softest of clouds would do, and Rose tried not to dwell too much on the dreary wait before her as she wiped the remainder of the monster’s grime off the gem’s smooth surface.

It took weeks - the longest since the war had ended. The gem glowed, floated up, played out its show, and then Pearl was there again, finally, stretching and breathing out a satisfied little _ah_. Rose rushed over and scooped her up, not willing to waste even a moment. “I missed you.”

Pearl gave some sort of unintelligibly muffled response, and hugged back. She launched herself into a few twirls once Rose had finally set her back down, taking some of the Room’s eternal pink cloud filling with her, and showing off the light scarf now draped over her shoulders. “I thought I could brighten up this ensemble a bit, try something new - what do you think?”

Rose hummed in pretend-seriousness and deep thought, one hand lifted to her chin. “Yes, it accentuates your movements nicely. A very tasteful, elegant choice, with a dramatic flair that is very _you_.”

Pearl smiled, obviously pleased, and launched into a new set of steps, leaps, and turns.

“You know,” Rose began after a brief silence, with a hesitance that felt unusual for her, “I was just thinking- Rainbow Quartz will probably look different now, too…”

She trailed off, and Pearl paused, met her gaze and matched her grin, perfectly happy to play along. “You’re right! I would _love_ to see where Rainbow Quartz goes with this - as would she, no doubt. And I’m sure Garnet would, as well.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Rose could only confirm, watching Pearl approach in that almost-dancing way of hers.

“Well,” Pearl stood on tiptoe in order to press a small kiss to Rose’s cheek, voice down to a whisper. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”


	2. The Other One (Yellow Pearl/Blue Pearl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginnings are hard, especially when they are likely to cost you your life and include the recontextualisation of belonging - and perhaps even being a person.

There are several things Yellow Pearl knows very well; things she keeps carefully close to constant awareness as a matter of survival. She knows that as long as she is Yellow Diamond’s personal pearl, she is _something_ \- and something important, at that, which is certainly more than most pearls can say about themselves. She holds a key position in her Diamond’s daily business, playing her part in ensuring all matters run smoothly and efficiently. Knowing exactly which data to project even before her Diamond asks for it, knowing which communication channels to forward where, knowing how to place holoscreens around her Diamond’s seat to ensure an optimal distribution of focus and attention - there is pride to be found in these hard-learned things, along with control, and power, even. Something she knows she isn’t supposed to have, but that she cherishes as it trickles down to her.

(If she tries hard enough, she can pretend she doesn’t see how the power seems to exist only when her Diamond isn’t looking.)

She knows, too, that she is far from the first pearl to belong to Yellow Diamond, and, try as she might, she won’t be the last, either. Pearls as a whole aren’t particularly known for their longevity, and Yellow Diamond’s control room has a certain reputation - a sharp reminder of the true and constant precariousness of her position, attractive though it sometimes seems. A tradeoff she likes to think she would have agreed to, had it ever been her choice.

She also knows that she is afraid, that there is a low undercurrent of terror running through her entire life - and that as long as she lets just the right (flattering, appeasing) amount of it show in her Diamond’s presence, things will continue to be fine.

She hasn’t gotten this far by being anything less than absolutely perfect, after all. She knows exactly when to bite her lip and present a calm façade, and exactly when to cringe and cower and bow until her forehead touches the flawlessly polished yellow floor. She has learned how to tell when to soothe pride and when to bear the brunt of anger. And on occasions when it gets close to dangerously too much, she knows when and how to disappear until she’s erased any evidence of distressed, shameful moments of weakness on her part.

It seems like a bit of a conundrum, at first: she can’t allow anything that could be taken as a blemish on Yellow Diamond’s flawless image, and while everything a Diamond does is undoubtedly correct and perfect, a temper could in some contexts be seen as clouded judgement… even though, of course, her pearl is hers to do with as she wants - even if that includes breaking her into tiny pieces over a minor infraction and grinding the shards into dust under her heel.

So Yellow Pearl puts on a selection of airs, and makes sure she doesn’t give anybody reason to think anything of her Diamond that she might not want them to, makes sure she is out of the way when it is needed of her, and in the way when _that_ is needed of her.

Above everything else, Yellow Pearl knows self-preservation.

It all works flawlessly, for the most part. She makes sure it does, and she likes to think she is content in her various successes. But on the occasions when they’re forced to meet, when their Diamonds choose to convene in person rather than over subspace comm channels, there is always, always something disconcerting in the tilt of the head of that… odd vintage model that Blue Diamond keeps around.

Yellow Pearl won’t stand for pity, especially _hers_. She hates it, hates the way the unseen gaze crawls over her skin - freshly regenerated or otherwise - and hates the way the sadness and yearning positively radiate off the other pearl in waves, the way they reach her from across the hallway and make her consider foolish, impossible, pointless things.

“I am useful and important, and not as easily replaceable as oh-so-many!” As _you_ , she wants to scream in her face, even if the other pearl has been around for thousands of years - a bizarre oddity, had she belonged to anyone but a Diamond. Luckily for her, the matter of ownership puts her continued existence above reproach, because certainly her Diamond’s will and wisdom and word are all equally correct and absolute.

Blue Diamond’s pearl doesn’t speak, and, true to the fashions of her Diamond’s court, her eyes are hidden. But sometimes, when they have been left alone to wait out of their Diamonds’ sights, she lifts her head as if she’s trying to _look_ , to take a peek from underneath her hair (so horrifyingly defiant! even the precious sapphires wouldn’t dare such a thing). And she… smiles. Small, small, barely noticeable, hovering things, but they’re undoubtedly there, and Yellow Pearl thinks - or likes to think, sometimes, even if it terrifies her - that the smiles are for her, and her only. What else can one conclude, really, when they only seem to manifest in her presence?

She’s never had anything that was hers before, that didn’t wither and evaporate under the intense scrutiny of an always judging, always demanding yellow gaze.

-

She’s trembling and whimpering into hands tightly clasped over her mouth in an effort to keep at least _something_ from escaping, well-hidden in one of the shady, narrow servant passageways of Yellow Diamond’s main quarters. It is there that the accursed blue pearl (likely on some visit with her Diamond, probably highly precisely scheduled, and it speaks to Yellow Pearl’s state of mind that she can’t quite recall the details) finds her, kneels down next to her, and initiates physical contact for the first time.

She wants to bolt, at first. It feels like it’s choking her, the closeness, and she just wants the unwelcome intruder _off_. She pushes, urgently, and perhaps cruelly, but she has no time for tempering her reactions when her only thought is to get her _away_ , and get away.

The blue pearl lets go after the first few shoves, and seems to realise her mistake. She doesn’t speak a word, still, but everything about her screams an apology, and she moves away, all appeasing gestures and offers of space.

Yellow Pearl works to get her breath under control and her pristine front back in place. Nobody was ever supposed to see this - she herself prefers to deny these… episodes to herself. It is unthinkable, and a poor reflection on her Diamond, to have her pearl behave so unbecomingly-

The blue pearl lifts a hand slowly, and inches closer, as if asking for permission - and it’s all certainly the fault of that defective peridot’s meddling, somehow, but Yellow Pearl finds herself granting it, and moving closer herself.

The small hands are gentle on her shoulders, running down to her elbows and then slowly up her back, rubbing mildly and soothingly. Thin arms wind around her and tug her forward so gently she can hardly feel it. She allows it, again, without really knowing why. A hand comes up to cradle her head, and she buries her face in the crook of the other pearl’s neck. She can’t see anything, or feel anything other than her, than herself, than the two of them and the points of contact, and it feels… good. Calm. Maybe even safe.

An absurd thought. There is no safety for them, nor will there ever be. No level of staunchly perfect performance will ensure survival, not when her entire existence depends on appeasing another’s whims, and certainly not when a single puny, incompetent peridot - hopefully blown to pieces by now - can throw everything into such chaos and leave her to weather the fallout as best as she can.

But it was nice to pretend, for those precious few moments.

Like how she sometimes pretends, for her own sake, that her endless drive comes from some place other than desperate self-preservation. That perhaps she could make herself needed, and useful, and important, all for reasons that aren’t to do with merely increasing her chances of survival.

The blue pearl rearranges them so they are huddled side by side, and the gem on her chest begins to glow, a pale, warm cyan. She makes no sound, but mouths along with the projection, and the tiny hologram pearl - with a gem on her forehead and twin swords in her hands - speaks for her. “You can leave this all behind, just as I did. We can be free of them.”

“What?” Yellow Pearl all but screeches over the tinny sound of the hologram’s words. “What are you _saying_? There is no getting away, not from them! They will find you, and- you don’t know, of course, you can’t know, you haven’t seen the _plans_ -”

Yellow Pearl knows all the plans, of course. She has carefully inspected and arranged into neat order every single file of every single one, and memorised them, just in case.

“If you come with me, you won’t have to belong to anyone or be in anybody’s service, but you _will_ fall under the protection of Rose Quartz, no matter what you choose to do with your-”

The hologram’s impassioned promises are interrupted by the frantic choking sound Yellow Pearl finds herself making while trying to force out the appropriately outraged words. “Rose Qu- are you looking to be _shattered_? You can’t just talk about the Traitor like that! What are you-”

Her hold on the other pearl’s hands becomes a terrified, nervous grip, and she presses them over the still-glowing gem, breaking up the projection. No amount of panicked looks around the abandoned little passage feel enough, and she keeps expecting intruders any second - large, brutish quartzes, perhaps, arriving to drag them away, back to their Diamonds to receive one final order.

Nobody comes.

The blue pearl slowly takes the shaking, clammy hands that are clasped around hers, pulls them down, and sets them in her lap. Her gem is dimmed now, dormant, and quiet, so Yellow Pearl breathes the closest thing to relief she has left, and sags back against the wall.

There is a question prickling in the back of her mind, however, incredibly persistent and more and more annoying, until she finally decides to voice it and be done.

“Is she real?”

The blue pearl nods, a firmness and determination obvious in her half-hidden face that make it impossible to doubt.

“So why didn’t you go with her, when she asked you to?”

Her only answer is a set of gentle fingers slowly lacing with hers, and squeezing briefly, and Yellow Pearl barks out an almost-laugh. “What? Don’t be absurd! That whole business was thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even- I hadn’t even been made yet! What do you even mean to say?”

The blue pearl smiles - tinged with some melancholy feeling, as is her habit - and shakes her head, but offers no other explanation. Instead, she opens her arms again, and Yellow Pearl finds every sign of protest dies before it can even make it to her lips, maybe before she can even seriously consider it. She inches closer, legs tangling in the airy, pale blue skirt spread in waves around her newfound companion, and she folds herself into the waiting embrace. The hold is barely there, free of foreboding pressure or cruel restriction or rapid, dangerous movements. It reassures instead of crushing, still stubbornly present in the small circles being rubbed into her back by a deliberately tender pale blue hand. It is, she decides, like nothing she has ever felt before, and she finds she dreads the thought of it ending almost as much as she dreads returning to the control room to find Yellow Diamond still angry.

The words spoken by the hologram - _belong to nobody_ \- present something that feels daunting even to imagine, and downright impossible to believe in. But Yellow Pearl finds herself entertaining the treasonous thought that, perhaps, she wouldn’t mind - and she likes to imagine the blue pearl wouldn’t, either - if the two of them could try belonging to each other, at least for a little while.


	3. A Language Of Its Own (Pearl/Rose, Garnet/Rainbow Quartz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the nature of human affection-related rituals, their application in several established Gem relationships, and fusion. But mostly kissing.

There was a certain ingenuity to humans as a whole that, combined with a determination to remain undaunted in the face of their own very obvious limitations, led Pearl to admit to a level of admiration for the species. But of all the human things Rose had gotten any of them to try since they’d come to Earth, this particular ritual might just have proven to be Pearl’s favourite, and the most rousing overall success.

Of course, as with so many things, the beginning had not been all that smooth.

-

“You should kiss her.”

It was Garnet, coming from somewhere behind her back, interrupting her brooding, and scaring the daylights out of her. Pearl shot to her feet and managed to squawk out a “ _What?”_ in reply, failing to pretend that she, awe-inspiring lieutenant of the war for Earth and leader of the current continental Kindergarten offensive, had been at all attentive to her surroundings.

“You should kiss her,” Garnet repeated calmly and simply, blunt and to the point as ever.

“Wh- who?”

“You.”

“No, I mean-”

“Rose.”

“ _Garnet!_ ” Pearl did her best to sound both indignant and surprised. “What do you-”

“It’s actually pretty simple,” Garnet began, so straightforward it felt impossible to argue. “You’ve barely talked for days now. You’ve been avoiding each other. Rose doesn’t want to pressure you into anything, especially not human things, so she won’t ask directly. She’s just been dropping hints about as subtle as laser cannon blasts. You, on the other hand, have been skulking around and trying to make plans or come up with excuses to approach her about this very same _human affection ritual_ and _I_ am getting very tired of the both of you.”

Pearl felt her face flood with heat at being so easily read, and most protests seemed pointless. “You can’t… rush these things, Garnet,” she attempted a defense, weakly.

“Your intentions are good. But you’re both stalling because you’re afraid of rejection, and both of you have made it crystal clear that you want this to every single being who’s had the, uh, luck of being in your presence ever since you came back from that human village - except to each other. So I’m giving you a hand.”

“Why?”

“Because you both deserve to be happy, and you’re wasting time being miserable.”

Pearl bowed her head at that, and admitted, to herself, to some level of defeat.

“And because I like kisses,” Garnet concluded, very matter-of-factly. “They’re romantic.”

“Humph,” Pearl offered in pretend-affront, “I think I know whose kisses _you’re_ thinking about, you sneak.”

Garnet smiled, but gave no admission either way. “Just do something about it. And don’t stand around thinking about it for too long.”

There was a notably bittersweet undertone to Garnet’s point - after all, try as they might, there was never any guarantee any of them would see the end of the next battle, or the inevitable one after that, or the one after that. Time was turning into a luxury more and more as the days on Earth spun by with the presence of Homeworld looming over everything, and Pearl felt like cursing herself for letting so much of it trickle by.

-

She found Rose sitting on a ledge in one of the many gardens now dotting Crystal Gem territory, tending to a group of visibly tender, newly sprouted bushes and humming thoughtfully to herself.

Pearl sat down next to her, cleared her throat and managed to open with an only slightly petulant air. “Garnet is meddling again.”

There wasn’t much need to specify what she was meddling in, exactly. Rose smiled, and gently prodded a few young branches into bloom. “I’m sure she means well, as usual.”

“Well,” Pearl continued, “ _I_ think she misses Rainbow Quartz.”

“Don’t you?” Rose shot back immediately, her attention now completely turned to Pearl, and Pearl noticed she was biting her lower lip nervously. “I know I do.”

Rose Quartz, Nervous was not something Pearl was entirely used to, or really knew how to handle. It was also, admittedly, somewhat fascinating and even mesmerising - the slight, telling movements, and the traces of blush on her cheeks. Pearl was well acquainted with her own traitorous responses, with the bright blue hue and distracted stammer Rose did so love being the cause of, but on Rose herself, well-

It was wonderful, like everything about her always was, and Pearl found herself being drawn ever closer to her. “I- I do,” she managed to reply, despite her tongue and lips not being very cooperative. “And we have been… hard on her recently, and… distant.”

Said distance was starting to feel intolerable, and Pearl squirmed in her seat until her thigh and side were firmly pressed against Rose’s. “It’s frankly ridiculous,” she said through a breathy little laugh as one of Rose’s curls came to rest on her shoulder, and another on her collarbone, “I couldn’t honestly tell you why, now.”

“Why…?”

“Why we’ve been doing all that… dancing around the subject. Keeping each other at a distance. It seemed very serious and important at the time, and completely unavoidable.”

“You’re right, it’s all very silly. We can stop now, probably,” Rose offered, contrite - drawing another bit of laughter from Pearl, all but draped across her lap.

“I’d like nothing better,” Pearl agreed, smile wide on her face.

“So… kissing?” Rose was batting her eyes and giving the most irresistible slightly bashful look Pearl had ever seen a being make, Gem or human or otherwise, and the idea of _melting_ came to mind rather intensely.

“I’d like nothing better,” she repeated, pushing herself up and inching closer still.

It was warm and soft, and in Pearl’s humble opinion there were no two sensations more pleasant to be found in the entire universe. Or in what she’d seen of it, at least - to be fair, it was only a minor part, but she was quite willing to extrapolate.

And to think… It was sad, how much Homeworld focused on cold, hard edges, and always, always the strict order, and pillars upholding it, and bars separating the highly specific sections of _everything_ and-

None of that here, no. In fact, knowing that Homeworld would disapprove only added an extra dash of delight to the proceedings, and Pearl tittered happily as they parted, completely unable to contain herself.

“What is it?” Rose spoke up through a mild chuckle, a bit breathless herself.

And _Rose_ , Rose was so good and so careful - important, since she could still be so overwhelming, sometimes. She tried, of course, and that was what made it so wonderful - always stepping back or coming closer, and letting go or holding on more firmly, as needed, as asked, as requested.

For a good while, Pearl couldn’t manage anything but a blissful sigh. Her attention went, instead, to the softness of the cheek she was running her fingertips over and nuzzling against. “I want-”

“Oh?” Rose allowed a trickle of pride into her voice, fingers ghosting over Pearl’s chin, her jaw, cupping her face. “That’s lovely, my Pearl. What do you want?”

“ _That_ ,” Pearl managed, breathily, “More of that. Please.”

“I’d like nothing better,” was Rose’s pleased and eager response, more felt than heard with how close they still were to each other.

The next kiss felt searing, and Pearl whimpered against it, hands scrabbling to hold on tighter and pull herself closer, long fingers tangling in endless pink in a way that could almost be called desperate. It felt like she couldn’t breathe, even if she wanted to. Not that they needed to, of course, but every little gasp of air shared between her and Rose tasted like pure, warm approval and care and affection and devotion the likes of which she would never have dared to imagine might one day be hers. Rose was whispering something back between kisses, and-

“Oh,” Rainbow Quartz exclaimed once she felt solid and present enough to do so, a hand over her slightly tingly lips. “I wasn’t… expecting that.”

“I don’t think they were, either.”

“Garnet!” Rainbow snapped out of the haze and turned to face the widely grinning intruder. Then, she grinned back. “I think the question is, were you?”

“Maybe,” Garnet shrugged, noncommittally, and entirely unconvincingly, and Rainbow couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, you’re being _sly_ , I love that.”

“I was just trying for helpful,” Garnet muttered, the first signs of a rare fluster showing on her face, much to Rainbow’s delight.

Rainbow, for her part, considered matters so far to be a success, and decided to press on with the teasing. “By spying? Oh, my.”

Garnet hummed, and finally moved to sit down - comfortably close, but not distractingly so, and Rainbow felt grateful for the gesture. “Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting them to resolve things this quickly. I thought I’d… hang around. Be on hand. Just in case.”

“Hm,” Rainbow looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, well, they both appreciate it. As do I. I’ll be the first to admit they can get stuck in their little… dances. And as much as I like dancing, I like getting to the point a bit more quickly than either of these two usually seem to manage.”

Garnet met her smile with another wide and only slightly wry one of her own, and they sat, for a while, in a pleasant, companionable silence.

“You know, it’s… a bit sad,” Rainbow spoke up at last, feeling her mood fluctuate strangely, as it sometimes did. “I… I love being myself, I really do, and I love both of them… and they do seem to love me, but…”

Garnet was quiet, but obviously attentive even as her conversation partner trailed off and got lost in her own thoughts - she was the perfect listener, and Rainbow appreciated that, especially when the Inside got a bit confusing, or a bit much. An excellent centering point, that Garnet - among her many other wonderful qualities. She placed a hand over one of Garnet’s own, and marvelled at the difference in size and shift in perspective.

A slight shift in perspective was exactly what helped her sort out what she wanted to say, in the end. “They love each other so much, it’s very, very clear - but they also… don’t.”

“Loving the other one isn’t a problem, is what you mean,” Garnet concluded, helpfully. “It’s themselves that they have trouble with.”

“Yes,” Rainbow mumbled, increasingly downcast, an unpleasant, divisive feeling stabbing at her chest.

“Hey,” Garnet was standing by her side now, and tipping her face up very gently, “they wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

“I know,” Rainbow groaned unhappily, “and they _don’t_ , it’s just- I wish I could help them.”

“I don’t think we can,” was Garnet’s simple and honest reply, and another brief silence settled between them.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange?” Rainbow asked after a while, taking Garnet’s hand again and running her thumb over the knuckles in a soothingly repetitive motion. “We’re talking about them like this, and it’s not even properly behind their backs.”

Garnet chuckled. “If it’ll make you or either of them feel better, we can always talk about Ruby and Sapphire. I have plenty of stories.”

“You know, that’s strange, too… I’ve never actually met them, but I feel like I know them, and so much about them…”

“You get used to these things.”

Garnet was just trying to be helpful and comforting, that much was clear. But there was still a truth to the entire situation that stung. “Well, maybe _you_ do,” Rainbow answered, allowing some bitterness to show and letting her hand tighten around Garnet’s. “I don’t really get to be around enough to get used to anything.”

“Let’s… not waste the time feeling sad, then,” was the peace offering she got from Garnet, and she suddenly felt a strange urge to laugh.

“No! I don’t mind! I… like feeling sad. I like it because, for once, _I’m_ the one who’s sad. Me.”

Garnet seemed to be about to offer understanding and reassurance, but Rainbow cut her off by pulling her into a hug. There was the perspective shift again, and the unusual size difference, and- above all, Rainbow concluded, it felt good to hold someone like that.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she murmured into Garnet’s hair, pleased to feel her return the embrace, “I’m happy, too.”

It felt particularly good to hold _Garnet_ like that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here either way. I missed you,” Garnet murmured, face pressed into the crook of Rainbow’s neck. “Always a sight for sore eyes.”

Rainbow laughed, and basked in the lightness and sense of togetherness that now filled her chest. “I missed you, too, you charmer.”

“You love it,” Garnet shot back, pulling away and looking up with a grin that could almost be called cheeky.

“Yes,” Rainbow smiled, “as a matter of fact, I do.”

Garnet got her kiss, too.


	4. The Light And How It’s Perceived (Pearl, Steven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astronomy lessons, model-making, and creativity of various sorts with Pearl and (Tiny) Steven. Happy _Scabbard_ -versary, although this turned out a lot more fitting for a _Space Race_ -versary.

 

The situation, after her conversation with Greg, was quite clear. Garnet and Amethyst were away on a mission, and Steven was coming to stay over the weekend.

He was a somewhat-less-tiny tiny human now, thankfully significantly more in control of his own biological processes, and Pearl, although still nervous when left alone with him, was quite sure she could handle at least this much.

Admittedly, it was also… well - flattering, gratifying, and appeasing, the way his entire countenance lit up upon seeing any of the three of them approach, the way his grin grew to seemingly impossible proportions whenever he was told he was going to stay the night with _the Crystal Gems_ (nobody could whisper it with quite as much awe as he could), as preparation for one day when he’d move in with them for good. Pearl couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so purely happy and so honestly delighted just to see her, just to be in her presence-

Or, well, she _could_ , but then, she’d also thought…

“Pearl, look!”

Steven was running towards her and straight into her increasingly melancholic thoughts, providing a most welcome interruption. Clasped tightly in his small hands, but still held out in front of him as if the length of his arms would noticeably lessen the time it took for the item in question to become clearly visible to Pearl, was a plastic box of colourful pencils. It was a vivid red-pink and covered with glittery star-shaped stickers, some of which were - Pearl’s eyes narrowed - already peeling off. Steven didn’t seem to mind, however, and his smile, missing front tooth and missed ice-cream smudge and all, was contagiously bright.

“That is an impressively wide selection of hues you have there, Steven. Well done!”

Steven somehow beamed even more at the praise. “We can share, and you can try out all of them! Let’s go inside!” 

He was a very creative child, and Pearl made sure there was sufficient paper of all kinds available in the mostly-completed house before each of his visits. Most of it ended up spread out all over the floor by the time Greg arrived to pick him up, but for once in her life Pearl found she couldn’t quite manage to resent the mess.

This occasion was no different, and the entire area of Steven’s future living room was carpeted with colourful paper within minutes of his arrival. The artist himself was sitting right in the centre of it all, a look of intense concentration on his face.

“What are you drawing?” Pearl asked, gently, crouching down to be at least almost level with him. Experience had taught her it was better to ask these things rather than assume, and cause offense.

“It’s a shooting star!” Steven exclaimed, holding up the picture for her to see. “Dad and I watched them from the beach last night and we saw lots. I got to stay up late!”

“Oh, I see! Well, Steven, that’s a lovely meteor you’ve drawn there,” Pearl nodded, tilting her head to get a better look at the smudge she now understood to be the orange tint of the sodium combustion process. “Very true to life.”

“Nuh-uh!” Steven shook his head emphatically. “It’s a _shooting star_ , not a meteo-thing.”

“No, no- look here, Steven,” Pearl cut in immediately, taking a blank paper for herself and putting down some basics in a pleasing navy blue - a circle for the Earth, some hatching to mark atmospheric layers and some shading to indicate outer space, nothing too complicated. Steven was still young even by human standards, after all. “ _Meteoroids_ of all sizes and different compositions - though mostly rocky - travel through space. Sometimes they get too close to a planet - this planet, for example - close enough to become affected by its gravitational pull.”

Pearl looked up from the trajectory she was sketching out for her bumpy-yet-symmetrical meteoroid, and met Steven’s wide-eyed gaze. He seemed to be taking things in well enough, in her opinion - though, admittedly, she wasn’t quite clear on what his retention capabilities might be at this developmental stage.

She switched out her pencil for the orange one Steven seemed so fond of, and continued by plotting out a nice, long trail. “A _meteor,_ or a _shooting star_ , as many - yes, Steven, like your Dad - like to call it, is what happens when a meteoroid starts burning up during its movement through the Earth’s atmosphere. Then, once it lands on the ground, whatever is left of it is called a _meteorite_.”

Only once she’d finished adding tufts of grass to the edge of her newly-drawn crater did it occur to Pearl to find it strange she hadn’t used a single hologram in her impromptu lecture. It felt like a shame, especially since Steven had loved them ever since he was a baby.

“Here,” she set down her paper and pencils, and pulled Steven into her lap where he could better see the projection she was planning for him. “Would you like me to explain more about how it all works?”

Steven nodded immediately upon seeing the familiar blue glow, but by the time the glare of atmospheric entry lit up the room, he seemed to have second thoughts, or doubts about something. He piped up once the dust of the impact had settled around the crater, signifying the end of the lightshow. “Will you draw more pictures?”

“Of course! Visual aids are a very effective means of-”

“Can I keep them?” Steven hopped up, excitement writ all over his face, tiny hands scrabbling to grab more paper. “They’re so pretty! You can have mine, and I’ll draw you some more, too!”

“Of course you can, Steven. And I’d love to see more of your work.” The trade seemed more than fair, truly, and Pearl smiled down at her young student - and soon, and perhaps already, something else, as well? Suddenly, and without much of a reason for the change that Pearl could pinpoint, many things that had previously seemed frightening and uncertain felt far, far less so.

-

When Steven returned from his day out with Connie, running towards Pearl and shouting her name at the top of his lungs, a thousand worst-case scenarios naturally came out in force to flit through her head.

“Steven!” Pearl exclaimed, leaping to her feet and down the porch stairs, previously very engaging laundry basket completely forgotten. “What happened? Is there an attack? Do you need me to call Garnet and-”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that!” Steven rushed to reassure her - partly, Pearl supposed, by barrelling into her and attaching himself to her legs. “I just have a present for you.”

Pearl felt her alarm ebb away into relief, closely followed by mild confusion. “Oh? A present? It’s not… my, er, _birthday_ , is it?”

After the fiasco which had almost ended with him dead of old age at the age of twelve, Steven had given up on throwing them birthday parties. Thankfully. But he’d insisted on establishing dates, claiming that if he got one, then they too deserved a day dedicated to spoiling and celebrating each of them - actual _celebration_ not mandatory - and he would absolutely not be dissuaded.

With the colourful, glittery cards and newly composed songs and small, usually home-made gifts, it was definitely one of those uniquely Earth-flavoured things that fell neatly into the “impractical and likely pointless, but nice” category - one it had taken Pearl quite a bit of time and effort to learn to appreciate, if not exactly fully understand - and if nothing else she liked the way being included in these little rituals made her feel. Besides, Steven’s enthusiasm - recently freshly mixed with a touch of kind, thoughtful restraint - was a joy to behold.

It was just a bit difficult, sometimes, to keep abreast of ever-changing human datekeeping conventions, and Pearl simply didn’t appreciate things sneaking up on her, as sweet and well-intended as they may be.

“Nope,” Steven supplied helpfully, “no birthdays - not for about a month, anyway. It’s just something that made me think of you, and I wanted you to have it. You and Garnet and Amethyst do nice things for me all the time! I don’t need to have a reason, right?”

“Oh, Steven,” she crouched down to squeeze him tightly, restraining herself to a handful of sniffles - nothing too loud, and nothing that might accidentally cause him to worry. Steven enjoyed hugs, normally - a fact Pearl found herself deeply thankful for, because things sometimes felt a bit hard to communicate by other means, and reassurance was never as easily gotten as when she could wrap him in her arms and feel him solid, and real, and safe. But now his return hug seemed perfunctory and he was nudging her away, and…

Oh, of course. The box.

It was somehow larger than she’d expected - though why she’d expect anything at all was anyone’s guess - and small parts seemed to rattle around inside when she shook it. Pearl immediately stopped moving it around - what if it contained something fragile, and she’d just broken a gift Steven had carefully procured for her? That would be completely unacceptable, and… well, he didn’t _look_ worried, at least. Still, she kept the box level as she carefully peeled off the tape holding its tidy blue wrapping together, then gently set it down on the ground while she straightened and neatly folded the colourful paper, stowing it away in her gem.

By the time she got to actually inspecting the box and its contents, Steven was very visibly trying to hold back his impatience and eagerness for her to see them, and offer an opinion on them.

_**Spacecraft Model Kit - UNPAINTED**_ , the packaging proclaimed, over what Pearl thought was a rather inaccurate artist’s rendering of Eta Carinae and its surroundings. There was a spaceship drawn on it, as well - light grey with blue and red stripes accentuating its sharp contours, and clunky in construction in a way that simply screamed _humans built this_. Still, there were no glaring faults to mark it as anything but spaceworthy, which Pearl could appreciate.

“Do you like it?” Steven’s question was slightly tentative, at first, but soon he pressed on without giving Pearl much of a chance to reply. “You can buy so many different kinds! Connie helped me pick this one out after we went to see the new Dogcopter movie, and the nice people at the shop promised me the scale was very, very accurate. They also promised me there was absolutely _no_ chance of it exploding.”

“That’s… lovely, Steven.” _That_ entire escapade was still close enough to induce a cringe, but Pearl fought to keep it out of her voice. Steven’s ability to bounce back from things was uncanny, and if she herself took quite a bit more time - well, she’d endeavour not to burden him with it as best as she could (though she was often made very aware of just how far from enough _her best_ tended to be in this particular matter).

“I thought, maybe…. we could build it together? I asked Dad and he said we could borrow some of his tools if we needed, and he gave me some smaller brushes so we can paint all the little details.”

“That sounds nice,” Pearl admitted, finding no exaggeration in her own words or intentions at all. “I’d love to build it, and I’d appreciate your help very much.”

Steven’s beam of a smile was worth everything. “Can we start right now? We can sort all the parts by size and everything- I mean, if you’re not busy with important Gem stuff?”

Pearl looked back at the laundry basket, and Garnet’s cryptic out-of-the-blue warning of “ _Not a good day for doing laundry._ ” on a bright, sunny afternoon as she passed by on her way to the warp pad suddenly made much, much more sense.

“I’m absolutely not too busy for you, Steven. We can start whenever you want.” Pearl squinted at the _**Ages 10 and up**_ printed in bold yellow letters on the side of the box, and nodded to herself, pleased. “Just leave the glue-handling to me, all right? I have no desire to see how your skin reacts to it, no matter how very brief human ideas of _permanent_ actually are.”

Steven merely laughed his promise, then took her free hand and rushed them both towards the house. 

 

 

Days later, after the stated recommended drying period, the meticulously constructed UUU Space Travel Short Range Exploration Vessel found its berth suspended on a string above Steven’s bed.

 


	5. All Is Well (Pearl/Rose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl's habit of insisting everything is fine, and Rose's well-timed doubt.

There were only two of them: topazes both and big enough to be imposing, but not quite the size of the standard quartz guards she was by now used to facing and taking down. 

“Show us where Rose Quartz is hiding,” the one on her left flank grumbled, and Pearl couldn’t help an incredulous laugh. She was fond of incorporating Homeworld’s tendency to underestimate her into battle strategies, yes, but this was quite ridiculous.

“No,” she replied simply. It was the most satisfying thing - perhaps she should thank them for the opportunity? And then, a bit more emphatic: “Never.”

The right one, slightly more blue in tint than her companion and no better at sounding friendly, made another attempt. “Take us to her and we won’t hurt you, I promise. Won’t you, like the good little pearl you are?”

“Well, maybe I’m not a good pearl.” It was unlikely they’d appreciate the irony or understand what she meant, but Pearl found she didn’t really care.

“She certainly isn’t,” the other one spoke up again and laughed, loudly and mockingly, “look at her! Nothing like Blue Diamond’s new one.”

The topaz said something else, then, about being dainty and quiet and pretty and still and so very obedient, but the words _Blue Diamond’s new pearl_ eclipsed everything, like a hum in Pearl’s ears.

She had come to know how to tell apart several types of anger - had become quite proficient, since running off to fight with Rose. There was one that burned in her throat and made her movements precise and her every strike terrifyingly exact, even as she snapped clever retorts back at whoever was facing her. She was fond of that one, and she thought Rose might be, too.

But there was also the other kind, the kind that made it impossible to speak and felt like a fist tightened somewhere in her chest, and that wrung frustrated, hot tears out of the corners of her eyes. That one made her limbs heavy and uncoordinated and always made everything so very messy in its unfailingly too-long stays.

The topazes weren’t much of a challenge, blurry tear-filled vision or no. One of them vanished over the edge into a nearby shallow ravine mere seconds into the fight, and made no attempt to return. The remaining one made a grab for the flail her companion had dropped and struck out wildly. She managed a few lucky hits among many deflected ones, and the fact that they were mostly glancing blows made them no less painful to whatever Pearl had that passed for pride. Finally, the topaz overreached and provided a solid opening - one that Pearl wholeheartedly took.

The point of her sword hovered over the dormant gem on the ground for a few long, trembling moments, as the air slowly cleared. Then she straightened up and kicked the roughly cut blueish rock away into the bushes with a sound of disgust.

Rose would be worried if she was late.

-

Rose was worried anyway.

“What happened?” She ran over as soon as she heard Pearl breaking through the outer bushes surrounding their sanctuary, pink hair and white dress flying everywhere in a familiar and somehow comforting sort of way.

“I found the patrol Garnet saw. I was…” Pearl attempted an answer several more times, but failed to get very far. Rose was on her knees before her, not meeting her eyes but anxiously looking over every scrape and speck of dirt like she’d somehow put them there herself. “I…”

_Blue Diamond’s new one._

“I got angry.”

Rose looked up at that, a growing frown in full display, but she made no comment. When more details didn’t seem to be forthcoming, she resumed her inspection.

Pearl kept perfectly still, and tried not to think about things, for a change. But Rose brushed against her left shoulder and she couldn’t help a wince, though the touch had been gentle. Clearly one of the blows aimed at her collarbone had been less than glancing. Pearl couldn’t really say she’d noticed.

Rose looked ready to cry. “Oh, Pearl. Do you want to…? Garnet and I can take care of matters here.”

_Blue Diamond got such a lovely replacement, such a pretty, polished, new little thing._

The idea of retreating into her gem sent an uncomfortable cold feeling down Pearl’s spine, even as the more reasonable part of her chanted that it was perfectly safe, and that she was focusing on nonsense. “No, I’ll be fine. A few hours, maybe a day, good as new. You’ll see.”

“If you’re sure,” Rose answered, doubt evident in every word. Pearl couldn’t blame her, of course - even she could feel just how completely false and forced the vague smile she’d managed seemed, and how strange and clipped her words were coming out.

Perhaps it wasn’t even anger. Perhaps it was grief, for someone she’d never even known or met or talked to, but only seen a flash of once, far too briefly.

Maybe it was guilt, too, because she’d never tried.

“I’m sure,” she nodded anyway, and tried to leave it at that. But Rose, of course, refused to play along.

“I’ll make sure you get your rest, then.”

“Rose, what-”

Rose loved soft things, gentle things - things Homeworld had never had patience or need or place for. She made no secret of this, and so the rebel hideout came to be surrounded by the finest of grass and covered with a veritable carpet of smooth, cushioning leaves and petals. Stretching out on top of it all was always a uniquely soothing experience, especially when it was with Rose - and it usually was. She was ever the instigator in these matters.

Not that Pearl felt like fighting her over it, particularly. It was sometimes a bit overwhelming, being enveloped like that, but the hold was always so tender and blatantly caring that it also drowned out any complaints she might have mustered about the lying around - about the need for another patrol, or a meeting to discuss plans and tactics, or some additional training for all of them. It was hard to focus on worrying, even for her, when there was little else but Rose treating her like she was the rarest and most precious and most important thing in the world.

“I wish you’d be more careful,” came Rose’s voice from somewhere close by. Pearl kept her eyes tightly closed, focused on the gentle fingers running through her hair so very carefully, the way her legs were tangled up in Rose’s dress, and the large hand that covered a good half of her back and made it so easy to shut out most things. “I wish you’d take care of yourself a bit more. I don’t know what I‘d do without you, you know. If you were to… if you…”

“You’d cry, probably.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood, if not a very good one, mumbled half-heartedly into Rose’s neck. “You always cry. I’d say you cry too much, but, unlike mine, you tears are actually useful.”

There was no reply to that unamusing quip, but soon enough there were warm droplets on her shoulder, trickling down and bringing relief with them that Pearl couldn’t really find in herself to fully appreciate yet.

_Blue Diamond’s new pearl. How long will this one last?_

Pearl shuddered briefly at the sensation, and Rose drew away the tiniest bit, just enough to be able to face her properly. “I’m _fine_ ,” Pearl tried to stem her fussing before it started. “I’m just tired.”

“You’re _crying_.”

She was. It came as a bit of a surprise.

There was a hand cupping her face now, and a thumb wiping at her damp cheek, and a worried Rose hovering over her. “Pearl, you know you can always tell me-”

She shook her head as much as she could, but mostly succeeded in pressing her face into Rose’s hand. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Rose relented, quietly, and hesitated. “Do you want me to go?”

Pearl let herself think over the offer for at least a few moments before deciding that there was nothing in the world she currently wanted less. She clung tighter in response, both arms now painless and available, and burrowed back into the warmth and the curls and the dress, glad that there was so much to be wrapped up in. “No.”

Rose stayed.


	6. Beneath My Palms (Garnet/Pearl/Amethyst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amethyst tends to comfort simply by existing. Pearl is fussy and overprotective. Garnet appreciates them both. Keeping It Together episode tag.

Steven is fast asleep, safely tucked in.

Garnet wasn’t the one to do it, and she can’t help but feel a bit bad about that, even as she knows the conversation about what they discovered in the Kindergarten has to happen and she’s only delaying the inevitable. But if there’s one thing she is certain of tonight, it’s that she is in no state to have it; not yet, not the way Steven deserves it, and not the way… _they_ deserve it, either.

She’s been feeling pulled at and torn at from all sides for hours now, and the split she feels most strongly is when trying to decide whether she wants to put it all out of her mind as much as possible, or remember the ones they’d lost, and those she’s now found, honouring them with thoughts at the very least. It’s hard to dwell on.

She’s also being avoidant in completely new ways. Garnet knows her teammates are all worried about her - she appreciates it, even as she wishes they weren’t and wishes they had no reason to be. But the way they were looking at each other as Steven went off to change his clothes and brush his teeth was unmistakable, almost conspiring, with Pearl bending down to quietly talk to Amethyst in what Garnet assumes was supposed to be a discreet move.

Garnet rests her forearms on the railing and stands facing the sea in the best approximation of ‘casual’ she can manage, and deliberately doesn’t check to see which one of them will come out to talk to her first.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

“Oh, Garnet! It’s you!” Pearl startles rather unconvincingly, arms full of laundry in the middle of the night, and Garnet wonders what happened and when to make her feel she needed to manufacture such a transparent pretext in order to have a simple conversation. “Are you… all right?”

Garnet takes her shades off with a hand she disgruntledly notices is still trembling a bit, and sighs. “You know… I don’t think I am.”

“Oh, _Garnet_ ,” Pearl repeats, then puts the laundry basket down and hurries over, winding both her arms around Garnet’s right one. It’s a pleasant contrast to the horrible, crawling sensation of the… experiments touching her, pawing at her in what might have been desperation, or the closest thing to a plea for mercy or relief they could hope to manage.

Garnet can’t suppress the shudder that runs through her entire form, and she’s grateful when she feels Pearl press closer.

“I can’t believe they would do this. It’s… simply unforgivable. I’m so sorry.”

She wants to ask Pearl how she knows, feeling a strange sort of betrayal, almost, like it’s a secret that was hers to keep that someone still insisted on bringing to light. It’s a ridiculous notion, of course. She has to tell both Pearl and Amethyst about Homeworld’s newest (though not so new) ploy sooner or later, and here she is being spared at least part of it.

Some of this must be showing in her expression, because Pearl launches into a new set of apologies. “I’m sorry, I… went into the burning room to check what you’d sent there. You looked like you weren’t really up for explaining.”

“It’s fine,” Garnet cuts her off simply, though she’s in a place where nothing is. Pearl would have figured it out, of course. It’s what she does. Maybe – and Garnet lets herself indulge in wishful thinking – maybe she can figure out a way to help, if a way even exists.

Her honest outrage is comforting, at least. Pearl’s eagerness for fusion gives Garnet pause, sometimes - but she can’t exactly fault her for it, either. At least now it means she can share in the horror, take on a part of the burden. It won’t help lighten the load that is uniquely Garnet’s, of course, but it’s… something, especially when she’s feeling the closest to alone she’s ever been, even though she never truly is. 

Garnet finds herself thinking of Sardonyx, put-together and precise and elegant and oh-so-perfect, skipping so many of the awkward, early parts of being formed as if it was all one big challenge. She feels her dramatically overstated shock and disgust in Pearl’s grip, as well as the way all of their palms itch for the handle of a warhammer.

“Who was it?” Pearl asks, quietly, after a long but not uncomfortable silence, and Sardonyx takes her bow.

 _Say their names_ , they all agree, and Garnet does. “I saw Turquoise, and Aquamarine… and Sodalite, too…”

Her falter and frown are enough to set Pearl off again. “Oh no, Garnet, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… you don’t have to think about it! I just thought talking about it might help?”

“It’s ok,” Garnet assures her for what feels like the hundredth time, giving up on keeping count of the _sorry_ s that Pearl keeps throwing her way.

“I’m not very good at this. Oh, maybe we should- I just-” Pearl frets some more anyway, then drifts into silence once again. Her grip becomes even tighter, and one hand moves lower to tangle her fingers in Garnet’s. Garnet allows it, and even squeezes back when prompted. The fingertips lightly brushing against her gem are grounding in a very relieving way.

“I don’t regret any of it, and I wouldn’t change a single thing,” Pearl announces to the night air suddenly. She is the only Gem Garnet has ever known possessing the ability to make completely serious determined proclamations while near-desperately clinging to someone’s arm.

Garnet looks down at her, near-painfully aware of her own unshielded, unhidden eyes, and waits for the inevitable continuation as Pearl meets her gaze head-on. “I just hope… you still feel the same way, no matter what they did. I’m so happy to have you here with me. You know that, right? We all love you. Steven _adores_ you, and remember how scared you were to tell him…”

And Garnet is grateful for it all, she really is, but there is one single thing she wants - and perhaps even needs - to hear most of all.

_It’s not your fault._

or at least

_We forgive you._

But the Gems she needs to hear the words from are very, very far from being able to say them.

In the end it doesn’t matter either way - whatever is going to be said or not is interrupted by a familiar sense of foreboding. Garnet sighs, rubs her hands over her eyes, and makes to put her shades back on. “It’s… a mission. I should go.”

“Do you want us to come with you? I can go get Amethyst-”

“No, I’ll be fine. And it’ll do me good.”

Pearl doesn’t look too convinced. Garnet isn’t, either – how could seeing yet another former comrade’s awful fate possibly do her good? But Pearl draws her lip between her teeth and lets go of Garnet’s arm without further argument.

“All right. If you’re sure. But…” She stands on tiptoe, perfectly balanced, and makes use of Garnet’s still-hunched posture and still-uncovered eyes to place a kiss on her forehead, just a little above the middle eye, tightly shut. “Come back to us?”

There’s a _soon_ in there somewhere, too, and Garnet grasps at it. “Mm. I plan to.”

-

She does.

This time, Amethyst is the one waiting for her, sprawled on a deck chair in a way that seems far too deliberate to be truly casual. “He-ey,” she calls to Garnet with a lazy wave, other hand patting the seat next to her. “Mission go well? You should sit here and tell me aaaaall about it.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Amethyst,” Garnet shoots back, but takes a seat anyway. Amethyst plops herself down in her lap with very little hesitation or regard for personal space. It’s something Garnet has always been not-so-secretly fond of, so she drapes her arms around Amethyst’s shoulders and rests her chin on the cushion of soft pale hair.

“Ok, what I’m about to say?” Amethyst begins, deathly serious, all pretense of curiosity about Garnet’s mission dropped. “You can’t tell anyone. Especially not Pearl.”

Leave it to Amethyst to get a smile out of her, even when it feels like every inch of her is being pulled down by invisible weights. “My lips are sealed,” Garnet promises, and takes off her shades for the second time that night.

Amethyst seems pleased with this pledge of honesty and confidentiality. “You know, um… I was pretty scared on that ship. When they threw us in the cells I - ok, you _really_ can’t let Pearl know this - but I kind of… I may have been freaking out a bit, and I heard when they put her in the cell next to me so I just… stuck close to the wall. Like it was gonna help that I was a foot closer to her or…”

Garnet isn’t really sure where this is all supposed to be going, but the setup is comfortable anyway. Amethyst has a knack for making her aware of how good it can feel to just _be_ , which happens to be something she desperately needs right now. A simple permission of existence.

“Ugh! I am _so_ bad at this!” Amethyst throws up her hands and loudly gives up on her attempt at… something. Garnet never quite figured out what it was. “Whatever. It’s not even important. I was gonna make a point about how we all get scared and how you can totally tell me things and everything but I messed it all up.”

“I appreciate it, Amethyst,” Garnet mutters without lifting her head.

“I mean, I know I don’t really… know stuff, and that’s kinda Pearl’s thing anyway, but I know that whatever you and Steven found messed with you pretty bad and I really hate that.” Amethyst turns around and segues into a hug, her words muffled against Garnet’s chest. “They don’t get to mess with you. Only I get to do that. But in awesome, fun ways. Not… whatever this was.”

Garnet runs her fingers through Amethyst’s hair and gathers up bits and pieces of resolve. Might as well get it over with. “Homeworld took the shards of Gems that fought against them in the war,” she begins quietly, trying for a semblance of her usual calm. “Our fellow Crystal Gems, many of whom I’d call my friends.”

Amethyst squirms in her lap, looking up at her, wide-eyed. Garnet swallows, and frowns, and presses on. “They… stuck the shards together somehow, I don’t even want to know how, and… fused them together. Into these… things. You saw them.”

She feels Amethyst’s nod and quiet, raspy response. “That- that’s just messed up. Way beyond janked. Way beyond anything I’m allowed to say in front of Steven. I’m sorry, Garnet.”

The word _mess_ keeps getting thrown around between the two of them and as much as Garnet agrees, she also thinks, with no little fondness, about Amethyst’s many, many messes, and Pearl’s fussing over them. It helps, in ways she can’t quite put her finger on.

“It’s not your fault. You of all people didn’t have anything to do with this.”

It clicks for her then, very neatly, right as she speaks, the whole picture of the long, winding timeline she’s been through. Pearl is important to her because she was there, and Amethyst is just as important because she wasn’t. They are the past and the present and Garnet needs them both, no matter what they believe of themselves.

“Maybe. But it’s not your fault either, you know?”

Garnet gives a half-hearted shrug that doesn’t really answer anything. It’s what she wanted to hear, but the thoughts are still there, as much as she hates them. If Ruby and Sapphire had never done what they did, if she’d never come to exist and run off and if she hadn’t made herself such a symbol of defiance and rebellion…

Every one of those mismatched eyes on her, the colours around them bleeding together in an eerily familiar way… if they had mouths they’d all be screaming her name, she knows.

 _Don’t ever question this,_ had been easy, perhaps, for Rose to say, and it stings to think about now that Garnet feels half like apologising for her very existence. But how could any of them have possibly known their enemies would stoop to something so incomprehensibly monstrous? Homeworld has so much wrong and rotten about it, but _this_ …

“You don’t deserve this,” Amethyst interrupts her growing turmoil. “And… and they don’t, either. I mean, I didn’t know any of them, obviously, but if they were as awesome as you or Pearl or Rose-”

“Nobody deserves this, no matter who they are. _Nobody._ ”

Amethyst cringes, and Garnet feels a stab of regret make it through… everything else in her. She can’t quite manage the words for an apology, so she opts for a solid, firm hug instead, burying her face in Amethyst’s hair.

She’s relieved when she feels Amethyst return it. “I don’t really… get all this stuff that well, I guess, and it’s not like I was there - and to be fair you guys aren’t too helpful on that front, you know? I didn’t mean it like that.”

Garnet knows. She understands the frustration, too, but she also hopes with all her might that it stays that way, that Homeworld keeps its many hands off Amethyst. She wants nothing more than to shut all three of her eyes against the barrage of futures that assure her it won’t.

Sugilite is there too, very temptingly, the perfect way to let go and shake things out - but another rampage is not what anyone needs right now. And oh, she’d be so _angry_ \- the way she clung to being herself and fought against separation, now taken and twisted into a morbid reflection of fusion that is anything but. Yes, Sugilite has every right to every drop of rage, Garnet thinks. It’s somehow easier to compartmentalise things that way.

It isn’t long until Amethyst pipes up again. “Hey, uh… wanna go down to the beach, take it out a bit? Spar, or whatever?”

“No,” Garnet shoots the suggestion down immediately, shaking her head slightly where it still rests against Amethyst’s shoulder. “Steven’s asleep. And I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

Garnet considers it, for a few moments, then tightens her arms around Amethyst in that squeeze she knows she loves. Amethyst always runs a little warm, and every part of her is almost aggressively soft, and put together it feels nothing at all like the desperate creation that had trembled under Garnet’s hand before she’d torn it apart. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Amethyst squeezes back eagerly. “You’re still the best, G, you know that, right?”

Garnet hums into Amethyst’s hair and feels another bit closer to believing that again.


	7. Positive Tropism (Pearl OC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third District’s Overseer Aventurine has a pearl she’s been talking about getting rid of, one with some knowledge of botany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Botany Pearl originally appeared in [Raised In Deep Water](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5162297), which is also where the line in the summary is from.

Gems don’t put much stock in organic life, it’s true. But Third District’s Overseer Aventurine is a scientist, and a widely travelled Gem at that - and above all she is a collector and a curator. Her sample collection greenhouse is a wonder - the rows upon rows of isolation pods, sorted by size and required conditions for survival, are something Gems from all over the system come to gawk and marvel at.

The actual life contained within is of little importance, of course. The wonder of it all, and the true point - what technicians and scientists-in-training stomp all over the greenhouse for, what court nobles titter about to their entourages when visiting to see a rare painstakingly induced flowering, what once drew praise from White Diamond herself: the embodiment of the limitless power, knowledge, and capabilities of Gemkind; the ability and implied right to both grant a lease on life in the harshest of circumstances and take it away at will.

Her pearl thinks it all wonderful, too - if, perhaps, for somewhat different reasons.

The creatures housed in the greenhouse are feeble, fragile, organic things, ill-suited to the heavily processed _everything_ that is Homeworld. A single mistake made during their care might cause them to wither and die and rot away like little more than a permanent smear on Aventurine’s prized reputation.

But it is pearl’s job-turned-purpose to keep them all alive.  

She has detailed instructions, of course - a precise script to follow and execute periodically. Aventurine is a first-class scientist and the mastermind behind the collection, after all, and she is nothing but a pearl. She is hardly qualified to do more than polish the glass bells of the specimen containers, and flick tiny switches or turn valves at the appropriate times, and a thousand other menial tasks that make up the caretaking.

The alien creatures keep her secret: that she is a terrible, disobedient disaster of a pearl. That she goes against direct orders and puts her owner’s livelihood at risk. That she interferes, time and again, as if she were somehow something _more_ , and that she cannot help herself - and doesn’t _want_ to.

It’s the least she can do for them, really. The turquoise carbon cloud creature needs a wider variety of sulfates in its atmosphere to keep its density within healthy levels, and far less rapidly oxidising material than what Aventurine claims - so pearl provides, and says nothing. The several generations of marshland flora prone to fascinating microscopic branching disagree with the mulch Aventurine keeps having made for them, and Pearl can feel the sting start up in the (soft, weak, pliable) gem all the way on the back of her neck when she opens the packaging: far, far too acidic. She skims and steals foam from the bubbling infusion that would surely kill the angry red-thorned root it was originally concocted for and fixes the ratios and keeps buying them all time.

She knows her own time is coming to an end. She’s overheard Aventurine’s comments, always made well within earshot of the entranceway where pearl stands, waiting on the evening’s guests. Oh, Aventurine exclaims, she still does a passable job of keeping the estate in order, of course, or she’d have been long gone. But she’s a rather plain thing, isn’t she, well out of style, and can’t possibly keep up with current pearl trends and the ever-growing demands of her lifestyle. Aventurine is something of a rising star, praised for her many successes by Diamonds themselves - surely she has rather outgrown this drab, antiquated little pearl. It’s only… she can’t quite decide what to do: would she even fetch a price worth the trouble of putting up a proper resale offer? (The ownership transfer documentation is an absolute pain, she’s heard.) Maybe she should just have her harvested and be done with it.

_Perhaps_ , pearl thinks, silent as always, smiling pleasantly and obligingly and emptily at whichever one of Aventurine’s guests happens to look over at her, _perhaps_ ** _I_** _have outgrown_ ** _you_** _._

Her fate is well understood and inevitable, all the same. She indulges in gleefully spiteful thoughts about the nosedive Aventurine’s reputation is bound to take once she’s gone - but then she remembers that this would mean the death of so many she’s cared for for so long, and she feels improper, forbidden, but above all frustrated tears prick at her eyes.

She wants to leave something, a trace of herself behind, even if it’s the last thing a proper pearl is supposed to do - and maybe, if she plans carefully enough, works quickly and discreetly enough, she can do just that for whichever pearl comes to take her place, and give _her_ a chance to save some of them, if she dares.

She’s always liked to trace the shapes and forms and curves and patterns she sees around herself, especially in the greenhouse. She likes it when her lines replicate the look of a complex structure of petals near-exact, better than any hologram she’s ever managed to produce. But she likes it even better when she makes up structures completely new and never before seen, as logical and perfectly plausible as she can make them.

Maybe they truly don’t exist except in her mind - or maybe somewhere in some other system or even other galaxy there is a planet with a field full of them.

And maybe the planet is already a Gem-controlled colony, and nothing organic lives on it anymore, and the petals are lost forever, not even a small reminder of them left in the form of a specimen in Aventurine’s ever-growing collection.

Pearl steals mulch-wrapping and straightens out sheets of bleached material the various compounds for organic nourishment were delivered in, steals time from Aventurine and gives it to herself (all of hers is borrowed, anyway), and writes.

_Specimen 2X5L (see attached drawing for easier identification in case labels get misaligned again) comes from a very humid planetoid and is highly sensitive to several trace elements present in the local atmosphere. Take care to only trigger the humidifier if the outer vacuum seal has been closed for at least 7 cycles._

_Additionally, if you tap out a steady rhythm on the glass of its container, you will trigger surprisingly rapid movement towards the source of the disturbance. Be aware there are frequencies it seems to enjoy more than others._

_I am unaware of any direct benefits of doing this, however-_

She pauses, and thinks of the sound of her own fingers rapping out a gentle _tap-tap-tap_ and the green tendril extending out as if to meet her, see her, tell her something.

She crosses out the last unfinished sentence.


	8. What Keeps Gemkind Alive (Pearl OC/Gem OC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a certain space station along a popular route that serves as a port of call for any ships that need maintenance. There is a pearl on it.
> 
> A fairly dark, vengeful, and entirely non-nice blatant Bertolt Brecht/ _Pirate Jenny_ reference-slash-revenge-fantasy-slash-awful-pun.

She’s always been a good pearl.

The commander was given her brand-new at the same time as she was honoured with this posting, so, barring the rare trips her commander’s had to take, pearl’s experience of other places is very limited.

The orbital port isn’t big, but its placement makes it a frequent maintenance stop for ships on several important routes. Pearl knows this is correct, because many Gems much more important and much smarter and most certainly more right than her in all things have told her this - and how kind of them to offer her, a pearl, pleasantly simple explanations of matters far beyond her!

She makes sure to smile at them, bright and grateful - but not too wide. She’s always been so good, so obedient, the frequent visitors and old-timers agree. But it’s a real shame, they say, that her smile isn’t as nice as the rest of her. There’s something sharp, something hiding just behind it that they know couldn’t _possibly_ be there, and must have been a trick of the light. An unfortunately unappealing feature on a creature otherwise so successfully made to be appealing. So she bows her head demurely and keeps all but tiny slivers of her smiles to herself.

They all like the chance to pretend a pearl, this pearl, is theirs. And they feel safe in the knowledge that the commander, so loathe to leave her fine, private offices, will never find out.

Pearl doesn’t like how they look at her, or how they touch her, or how they don’t. How she can be grabbed and pulled and pushed whenever someone decides they feel like it, or how she can be made to stand quietly in a corner while the planet spins and spins and spins for endless cycles, without so much as a look thrown her way. But she is good and she has always been good and she stays in her corner and gazes, intently, out through the viewports. Oh, they have a laugh at that, of course. What could there possibly be out there, of interest to a pearl? What’s gotten into her pretty little head?

Pearl watches, and waits, until the agate, in charge of keeping the crowd of visitors and passengers and crew from becoming too rowdy, takes her by the arm and turns her so she’s facing the wall and her strange, unyielding stare isn’t bothering anyone any longer. Her eyes skim over the tiny dents where the corner plating is welded together instead of over the countless stars outside, and she doesn’t move until someone decides they want her to.

She cleans things, often. She likes how the metal reinforcements in the floor glitter when she polishes them, rich and gold, like something else entirely. She’s a good pearl, she really is, but she gets caught up in it, sometimes, and a helpful visiting Gem who sees her lost and staring will make sure to nudge her, bring her back to reality, back to work. Have a little chuckle at the poor pearl who can’t really help it, can she, so silly, so easily distracted by a bit of shiny mesh in the flooring.

She keeps the cupboards and shelves and storage in order in every bit of the station, from the commander’s impossibly pristine office to the always-grimy, always fuel-stained maintenance area. She takes care to straighten out and arrange even the endless mess of wires and cabling the comm team always leaves tangled.

She does all these things, and she waits, and she smiles, but only to herself, because she knows what she’s waiting for, and they -  they do not.

“Proximity alert, we have an unknown ship approaching-”

“Intruders on decks one to five!”

Pearl waits.

“Where’s our distress signal? What are you _doing_?”

“The comms are down, ma’am! The lines have been cut and there’s- interference- I can’t-”

Pearl waits.

The ground shakes and bulkheads crumble under fire, and in the chaos the station crew cries out- the attack came out of nowhere, they say, the sensor systems somehow failed to detect any intrusion in the security perimeter, and a growing number of panicked voices takes up a cry of _sabotage_ - _!_

Pearl leaves her corner, because with everyone busy running for their lives there’s no one around anymore to tell her not to, and she steps out of the main hall and strolls towards the teeming escape pod hangars.

And then, oh, there she is, finally, finally-

Her hair glistens in the light of the turned-down jets, dancing even in the still air of the artificial atmosphere bubble. She scans the crowd, and when she spots Pearl her lips widen into a joyous grin, the glint of her gem-incisor perfectly eye-catching as she struts forward. Terrified, defeated citrine guards scamper out of her way, trying to hide in the rubble.

Her darling is golden all over, and she holds Pearl close and tells her how much she’s missed her.

“What took you so long?” Pearl whispers into her chest, clinging tightly.

“My dear, getting a ship is far from easy,” Pyrite murmurs into her hair. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Whatever you want. All the time in all the worlds we talked about visiting, all yours and mine.”

Behind them, a citrine shuffles back into action, an improvised club raised above her hand - but she is slow and desperate, and a golden rapier, even distracted, makes short work of her.

“What should we do with the rest of them?” Pyrite asks, sounding almost bored as her crew rounds up the captured.

So Pearl considers her options, and ignores the scattered cries of _you’re asking the **pearl**?_ from somewhere below her knees. It’s like she has done, in secret, retreating into herself to be alone with her thoughts, very many times before. Though there aren’t that many options she bothers to consider anymore, really - a bittersweet conclusion she’s come to a long time ago.

“I want them gone.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

All of them thought nothing of treating her like she was nothing. 

Some cry out in fear, some plead for mercy, some try to put up a fight - all of it equally futile. Some of them crack, some shatter, some split clean in half.

Pyrite sends her crew back on board to prepare for takeoff, offers Pearl her arm, and promises she will never have to wait again.

The walk back down to the dock isn’t long at all, and the station is unusually, pleasantly, beautifully quiet.

The ship departs.


	9. Absolute Causality (Sapphire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapphire comes to Earth and has all the answers.

The attack on the arena proceeds as it always does.

Ruby glares up at the rebels and shouts, half a challenge and half a taunt. Ruby cries out in warning. Ruby raises her fists and steps forward to fight, smooth white stone scorched under her feet.

They fail, all three, though one remains to bear witness, clinging to her physical form.

They approach: the rebel pearl who is to be her end, and the sword Sapphire has seen herself fall under countless times (still strange, she thinks, to see a pearl bearing it - though it matters little, as she will soon enough be nothing but nacreous flakes and an error thoroughly erased). The Diamonds demand utter certainty in everything they want done, and so Sapphires are made and consulted. There is no room for misinterpretations or mistakes.

The sword rises and falls, a steely flash - and then nothing.

Then, much later and in no time at all, Homeworld again. Her Diamond honouring her with a visit, a newly minted circlet inlaid with rose quartz upon Her azure brow. An elegant trophy and eloquent warning all in one, for all to see.

Sapphire never visits the Crystal System colonies again, but she hears plenty about how the Earth prospers under Pink Diamond’s glorious rule, and of the golden age she helped usher in.

-

The flight to Earth is brief and uneventful and pleasant enough.

Ruby and Ruby brag and boast and squabble and roughhouse among themselves as soon as they are out of the ship, as is their habit. Ruby joins in and stumbles, caught up in their silly game, right into Sapphire.

It is a strange, brief contact. Rare. Unusual. Inappropriate, certainly. Sapphire has not felt someone so close to her since the last time she perused this particular strand of fate, and she knows, just as she knows everything else about the path laid out before her, that she never will.

Nothing comes of it, as nothing should, or could.

-

The attack on the arena proceeds as it always does.

Ruby glares up at the rebels and shouts, half a taunt and half a challenge. Ruby cries out a threat. Ruby punches at the air, already shimmering with heat.

They fail, all three, though one remains, physical form whole, to suffer the consequences later.

They approach: the rebel pearl who is to be her end, and the sword Sapphire has seen herself fall under countless times (how odd, still, she thinks, that it is a pearl who wields it - though it is of no consequence, as she will soon enough be nothing but iridescent dust and a forgotten irregularity). The Diamonds demand utter certainty in everything they do, and Sapphire, like the rest of her cut, provides. There are no misinterpretations or mistakes.

The sword rises and falls, a flash of red - and then-

Nothing. And everything.

There is someone else here, now. Closer than anyone has ever dared to be, closer than she would ever have thought it was possible to be.

She is beside herself, but she is not herself at all, and in her place - someone strange and new, coming into being in defiance of all the established order of the universe, of everything that was ever supposed to happen. An explosion of possibility and potential, overwriting certainty.

Two hands, two gems, both the same deep red but of a different cut, both utterly familiar and exactly where they should be, but also not at all.

Then, just as quickly as she burst into life, she is gone, and Sapphire is spinning, falling, dazed, faced with the slightly off-white palm of her glove, and the clear, deep blue of her gem, just as they have always been. Unchanged, almost mockingly so, when nothing is what it was supposed to be, what it was _going_ to be, among angry cries at the escaping rebels and the tiny, confused sounds Ruby is making right next to her. Sapphire stares, finds no precedent, and understands nothing. Rubs at the sudden cold _absence_ on her left palm as she stammers half-apologies for her supposed failure, and stops herself, barely, from reaching out towards Ruby, towards her-

_You will be broken for this_ , Blue Diamond’s judgement and sentence echo above the displeased, scandalised murmuring of her court, over Ruby’s desperate pleas for mercy, but Sapphire cannot see a future where this comes to pass. She cannot see it because it will not happen, because Sapphire has decided she cannot allow it and does not want it to. It is an altogether different kind of certainty than what she, ever merely the observer, is used to, but no less potent.

She grabs her future by the hand, and steers fate into the unknown.


End file.
